


An Uncomfortably Long Handshake

by SenkoWakimarin



Category: Watchmen - All Media Types
Genre: Emotionally Repressed, Idiots in Love, M/M, One Shot Collection, Sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:42:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 4,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27562480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SenkoWakimarin/pseuds/SenkoWakimarin
Summary: A collection of short DanRor fics.
Relationships: Dan Dreiberg/Rorschach
Comments: 32
Kudos: 42





	1. Speeding Cars

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Grendoc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Grendoc/gifts), [soubriquet](https://archiveofourown.org/users/soubriquet/gifts).



It’s all over the news that morning, splashed in three-inch type across the front of every newspaper. Keene’s Act passed- the age of masks is over. It’s time to move on.

Dan will not deny that he feels some relief, waking to the news. It’s not just for himself, either. He’s been watching Rorschach try to kill himself for years now, and maybe- slim chance, but maybe- the man will come to his senses when he sees this. Because he can’t keep on like this. There is no good time to quit, he knows, and so why not now?

He tries to make his case when Rorschach appears in his dining room, pacing like a caged thing. There is a predictable argument. He tells him how worried he’s been about him, how bad this is obviously hurting him, how he needs a break at the very least. And somehow, after each piece of reasoning is brushed aside and Rorschach gets more and more agitated, it all turns into Dan trying to soothe and comfort.

“We’re the good guys,” he tells his friend, finally getting the smaller man to sit at the table. “It doesn’t matter if we’re out there risking our lives under a mask, Rorschach. We can still do the right thing without the masks.”

The words mean nothing to the other man; he tilts his head to the side and stares at Daniel for a long time before standing. “Going to quit then?” He asks, and Daniel is surprised that he doesn’t sound angry. “For good?”

All he can do is nod. He has to- it’s now the law. And Rorschach surprises him all the more by just nodding back. “I’m not cut out for dodging the law any more than we already had to,” he admits. “Between the choice of quitting now or ending up in jail with the real bad guys, the ones we already put away…”

He feels Rorschach’s hand on his shoulder, the gentle squeeze. “Not much of a choice. City needs us.”

“The city chose to tell us to quit, buddy.” The words feel like a cop out, and somehow the fact that Rorschach isn’t fighting with him over this hurts even more. What he wants to do is beg Rorschach to look at this his way, to stop this self-destructive crap now, to stay here with him.

“Always been a good friend, Daniel,” the other man says softly, the tone somewhere between sad and yearning, sending a chill through him.

When he turns- to do what, he’s not sure- Rorschach is gone.


	2. River Full of Love

It burns inside him like a chemical fire, hot and ruthless and all-consuming; impossible to put out. Sometimes it simmers, a low heat that he can almost ignore; but at the slightest encouragement, it flares into a murderous blast, blocking air from his lungs and tripling his heart rate.

It would take a miracle for Daniel to feel something for him beyond simple friendship, and it’s more than he deserves to ask for. And he knows it's wrong, knows he's sick in some way for feeling this. He knows that he's as depraved and debauched as any of the criminals they take down.

But there are moments, in the night while they're walking side by side (sometimes a little too close, sometimes notably separate) that Daniel will turn his head and look at him. And it's just a look; he can't even see Daniel's eyes through the goggles (can imagine, though, smiling and creased and deep deep brown) but he knows that it’s meant to be more because of the smile that curves his lips.

He can't help it sometimes, and he's afraid that Daniel (who is not stupid, who is capable of extrapolating the motives from actions) will one day come to the right conclusion on his own. Moments when his hand grasps Daniel's shoulder for a moment to long; moments when he stands just slightly too close. Moments where hands that should be checking for wounds wander astray.

Daniel doesn't know that he feels these sick things; doesn't know how badly he wants to reach out and touch and feel and claim when he receives that look. Daniel mustn't know, because Daniel thinks that any desire is natural and acceptable and would never spurn him for his depravities, might even encourage them and he can't take that risk. He can't take the idea of degrading either of them that way; can't stand the idea of Daniel latching on to his weakness with some liberal-minded, misguided attempt at charity.


	3. Something

To Daniel, it seems like he has to fight for every inch of progress he makes with Rorschach. He might as well be suggesting murder to ask the smaller man to stay the night; might as well be trying to disrobe him to take his hand and tug him upstairs after patrol.

But there's just… just  _ something _ to the way Rorschach walks into the dining room, something to the way he says  _ No, Daniel _ that really means  _ convince me, beg me, make it okay. _ And, hell, maybe it’s a masochistic streak he hadn't discovered, but Daniel kind of  _ likes _ the drawn out process; kind of likes having to talk him into it, to have to make the same promises and assurances each and every time.

Maybe the process is drawn out and borderline frustrating, but there's always that moment where Rorschach ends up on his feet, prowling around the kitchen table as he talks in shorter, more precise sentences, the words tipping toward agreement. There is just  _ something _ Daniel loves about that moment, that walk, that muttered consent. How Rorschach always ends up behind him, leaning down to whisper haltingly in his ear-  _ okay, upstairs. _

It gives him shivers every time.


	4. Littlest Things

It seems unlikely, but Dan wonders if Rorschach ever thinks about what they had. He wonders because it seems he can't stop thinking about it. Little things remind him of their brief romance; simple things like putting sugar in his coffee or running the sheets through the wash. He wonders if he could ever get Rorschach to trust him to be close again.

Maybe it’s stupid, how tightly he clings to old memories. He can remember every gentle, probing conversation; persuading his partner to come closer, to stay for the night. He remembers how it felt to kiss him, the feel of latex (left on in a grudging concession on Dan's part) against his cheek as their lips brushed; the staccato stutter of Rorschach's breath against his lips. How exceptionally shy and- so incongruous to his normal spitfire personality- scared the other man could be in bed.

He remembers just laying there with him, maybe curled together but more often just side by side, sharing space in a way that might be innocent if they weren't both panting and sweat-slicked and completely spent. Just laying there, together-- he dreams of it sometimes, wondering why Laurie can't just… lay there. Why it always has to be motion and action with her. And he knows it's wrong, that he thinks of Rorschach while she's right there, straddling his hips and working on the buttons to his shirt… but sometimes he can't help dreaming of rougher hands that were somehow gentler, less experienced but infinitely more capable of leaving him undone. There's no way Laurie- no way anyone, he thinks- could ever replace Rorschach in that respect.


	5. Lay Your World on Me

He wants to say something as they fly into what Dan has the sinking feeling is going to end very, very badly. There is a nagging sensation of needing to clear the air before it's too late, and he  _ really _ wants to say something.

He wants to say something about wishing he'd been there to stand with Rorschach all along, about how he's been a shitty friend and how he's missed him; about broken promises and wishes; about would-haves and could-haves and should-haves. About how he knows he didn't deserve to have Rorschach standing behind him all those years and that he doesn't deserve to have him next to him now. About how things will be different- and of course they will, because  _ everything _ is different now. About how, if Rorschach will let him, he'll give him whatever he wants.

But there aren’t words for all these things, and really, he's not sure Rorschach wants to hear them if they do exist. Nothing he can say is going to be enough, and he really  _ doesn't _ deserve to have this man with him right now, much less to have him trusting him. But they need each other to have any hope of surviving this, and Rorschach can't run into this thinking he's alone.

He knows Rorschach is fucked up in ten thousand different ways, and that he has some deep personal issues with their relationship- he could barely bring himself to shake Dan's hand. He also knows that he's never loved anyone as much as he loves this man, and that Rorschach is killing himself. He needs to say something to let him know he's here, not going away, not going to back out.

"I'm here, you know…" he says finally, the words feeling clumsy and stupid in his mouth. It seems to disarm the other man, and maybe that's good for all the most selfish reasons, and he looks away from the driving snow to flash a weak smile at him, apologizing and bracing at the same time. "You can talk to me. I'll listen."

In the moment the considering grunt and ensuing silence feel like acknowledgement. Later, when everything has happened too fast and too terribly, it will feel like what it is—so much nothing.


	6. This Must Be the Place

Sometimes, all Daniel needs to feel at home is having Rorschach with him, and that kind of says something right there. It confuses him, sometimes- when home stopped being about a place, about things and little material comforts, and started being about this strange, strange man.

He doesn’t question it. Better not to talk about it, to just go with the flow and see how this plays out. They’ve got plenty of time, and he’d rather let Rorschach take the lead. If they’re making it up as they go along, at least it’s kind of fun.

It’s maybe a little surprising, how different Rorschach can be from day to day, night to night. Sometimes outlining whole grand schemas and monologues just for Daniel as they sit in wait; sometimes just silent and intense and almost oblivious to Daniel’s presence. Sometimes gentle and willing to touch; sometimes brutal and struggling to get away. Completely unpredictable, and this shouldn’t be as nice as it is, as good and fulfilling, but all Rorschach has to do is turn his head a certain way and Dan feel’s he’s home again.

He forgets sometimes, who found who first. Not so much about the partnership- it doesn’t much matter- but who decided it was okay to take that bond one step further. To share space for longer than just patrol. 

It’s kind of comforting that they’re so wound together that he can’t tell, and he knows that sometimes this isn’t about anything other than making sure they’re both really alive, both going to be okay for another night; it’s sometimes just about covering the blank spots in their personas that they can’t bear to let show.

But for a minute or two it’s a lot like love and that’s enough to make him happy.


	7. Calling You

“Love you,” Daniel mumbles sometimes, two words ghosted against Walter’s skin, warm and light and enough to make his stomach do bizarre things. It’s something he can’t explain—of all the people in the world, why him? He can’t get a straight answer out of the other man, either.

And, sick thing that he is, Walter feels the same way. Something in him won’t let him just  _ say _ it, not in those words, so he’s left trying to  _ show it _ . It’s hard, because he doesn’t want to seem needy—he limits himself to hands checking for wounds and closed-mouth kisses that only give away half the relief he feels when he finds Daniel is okay. Sometimes the brusqueness makes Daniel defensive, but more often than not he just laughs, pulling him closer and giving him permission to take more.

He can’t just say he’s in love with the other man—can’t have it that open or real. So instead he’s obsessively protective in a fight, to the point of what he knows Daniel thinks is reckless self-endangerment. And some nights, when he can stand the closeness and the contact, he says it in glances and in wandering hands, with lips that don’t speak but instead find just the right spot to press. With his body he can say ten thousand things at once, and Daniel is always willing to listen.


	8. I Can't Live With You

Their relationship is, as the cliché goes, like a rollercoaster. All hills and valleys. Mountains and canyons, maybe. There are these beautiful moments where they’re in perfect sync, in tune with each other in a way that seems almost supernatural, and then there are moments when they miscalculate or misjudge each other with such hideous magnitude that each is afraid the other is gone for good.'

But they always find some way of coming back up the slope, out of the pit and to the peak. Sometimes there are apologies, and sometimes it’s just pretending nothing happened. There is, almost, a kind of balance to it, and they both (in their own ways) appreciate that. There is honesty, at least, in the way that they work together even when they’re fighting. They click on some level that transcends the need for perfect agreement, making sure that they’ll always end up together again.

And love is sometimes about those little white lies that keep you from hating the other person. It’s about saying, “No, it’s okay” and “you’re right” even when it’s not and they’re wrong. Sometimes the lies burst out of them at the same time, and it’s just too much; Daniel will laugh and Rorschach will turn away and that’s fine too—they’ve learned to laugh at themselves more than anything. Laughter beats anger any day.

And through it all, through all the yelling and fighting, through the tears that can’t be helped and the laughter that can’t be quelled—through all the little concessions and agreements and indulgences, they each know that in the end they need each other. Can’t live apart even if they can’t live together.


	9. Well Dressed

Dan knows- he  _ knows _ \- that Rorschach doesn’t dress to impress. In all likelihood, his costume is more stylized convenience than statement -- he knows that whoever lives under that mask doesn’t have the luxury of wealth backing him. The shifting mask is probably about as close to eccentricity and symbolism as Rorschach goes. The rest is pure functionality.

So he shouldn’t find himself staring as his partner rolls his shoulders under the pinstripes, trench coat set aside for the moment. Shouldn’t admire the way those neat lines highlight the other man’s trim frame, accentuating his wiry leanness into something very nearly sensual. Because this is Rorschach, and he’s not sensual. He’s practical, and very likely to punch Daniel if he ever were to say something about how great that suit looks on him.

He shouldn’t be  _ jealous _ of the women who sometimes do stare or bite their lips or give one of a hundred thousand facial cues to express that they like what they see. He shouldn’t envy that they can get away with their silent appreciation in a way he can’t afford to. He should just, you know, make sure he’s focused in the moment and not joining them.

But it can be very hard  _ not _ to stare when Rorschach is rolling his sleeves down and pulling his coat back on after stitching Dan’s shoulder closed. Watching him cover creamy, freckled skin in slow, controlled motions that are very close to being taunts. And he knows this is an awful joke in some circles, this getting turned on by watching someone get dressed, but he can’t  _ help it _ , especially when Rorschach is facing him and (yes, the mask might be concealing something, but it also might  _ not  _ be) looking right at him, as if to make a point.

And he knows that’s not the same as permission and that he’s supposed to wait for Rorschach to make the first move, but some things are just  _ too much _ , and the implications of that look fall somewhere under those lines, and he’s on his feet, catching one gloved hand in his own and holding it still, muttering something about helping and doing exactly the opposite.


	10. Hickies

Rorschach is all clinging hands and sharp, harsh breaths, teeth that nip and bite and lips that press apologies to abused flesh. It’s partially inexperience and partially a desire to make this less wonderful than it is.

In the morning, Rorschach is usually gone, sometimes leaving a note and sometimes not, leaving Daniel to fumble from bed, to turn the coffee pot Rorschach will have used off, to slip into the bathroom and contort in the mirror in search of the marks he knows will be there. They’re never quite where he expects them, always in some convenient and easy to hide location on his collarbone or hidden by the curl of his hair under his ear.

Perhaps they’re marks that the other man hopes will convince Daniel that this is wrong. That feels like something Rorschach would try; they’re stains, visible violence Daniel can look at and know that all he can ever hope for from Rorschach is injury. 

Dan finds himself running his fingers over them as he’s walking around outside the house, knowing no one can see them and kind of wishing they could. They’re like badges, silent testaments that this is real, and no one would know who had made the marks, but Daniel would and it would be kind of nice, glancing in the mirror at home to brush his teeth and seeing that mark without having to seek it out.


	11. Look

The mask is off, and Daniel isn't staring, isn't even looking. He is, in fact, quite pointedly studying the texture of the basement floor, following a deep crack to an old oil stain and admiring the contrast of pale to dark, wondering why things have to be complicated when they're at heart so simple.

And Rorschach is standing in front of him, the agitation and anger washing off him in waves to crash against the break of Dan's passivity and quiet. "Look at me," he says, and it's not a whine or a plea, not with that gravel undercutting the words, but it’s unbearably close.

His eyes rove slowly upwards, and it is not to be obstinate or contrary but only to be sure that he is doing exactly what has been asked. He is _ looking _ at his partner, and not just at any one thing, but all of him. 

Taking in all of his compact frame, currently too tense and all but trembling. Observing the way Rorschach's shirt is rumpled and one button has popped off -- probably over in the corner to their right, and he has to quirk a smile at that -- and how he's remembered to zip his pants up but not to do anything to cover his freckle-splattered chest. 

Daniel’s eyes rove over Rorschach’s shoulders, his bare throat, following a trail of freckles that go undercover in a field of stubble. Over thin lips, chapped and sweet and still a little swollen from kisses. Over the many-times broken nose, imperfect and yet part of something held very dear. Skipping the eyes, saving them for last, to skim over the furrowed brow, to get lost in the untamed and unkempt wilderness of ginger hair. Finally to lock on those eyes, so hard and so fierce and so,  _ so  _ unsure.

He looks, and yes; the man in front of him is not beautiful. He is, by conventional definition, exceptionally ugly. The harsh fluorescent lights do nothing to soften his features, making him look waxen and pale and dangerous.

But Daniel has wanted this face for so long now, in the shadows and in the gold of morning light, and he doesn't care.


	12. Bare

It has nothing to do with location or time or situation. It’s not about the partnership or the bickering or the sex. It is not even about Daniel and Rorschach.

It’s about the darkness and the way it eats into a person, stripping away the defenses built up in the light with unwavering, inescapable determination. It’s about the way blood never really washes out of anything. It’s about the way hope seems to leech out of the world with each passing night.

It’s about two bodies that need physical reminders of their wholeness. It’s about two hearts yearning for a reason.

It’s about having one person who can be trusted enough that everything else can be set to the side for just a few hours. It’s about having enough faith in the other person that all the armor can fearlessly be cast off.

It’s about being able to lose the masks and gloves and names, to shed all the layers and peel each other down to the core, to know that there is at least one other good person in the world; to strip and be stripped and stand before one another completely bare, unafraid of judgment or injury.

There are any number of reasons Dan could give for why this is a bad idea -- absolutely terrible -- and a thousand ways he can imagine it ending that are violent and painful. Sometimes he thinks he should say something, but he always thinks far enough to envision Rorschach -- the set of the shoulders, curled defensively, the cant of the head, twisting just slightly away -- and he knows that he can never hurt his partner that way.

And it’s not all bad. There’s something sort of… off and worthwhile… about having someone always at his back, knowing that they’ll look out for him and at the same time is dependent on him. And there’s something kind of nice about the way Daniel already knows Rorschach’s wants and likes and limitations, like this was supposed to happen all along.

And that sort of… not tenderness, because Rorschach is not a soft person, he’s contrary and irritable and bites without barking in warning… but a sort of fondness that makes the edges of his frown dissolve, makes Daniel’s world just a little shuttered. Something sweet between them, something that makes up the moments where Rorschach comes up to him before patrol and the first thing he does is tuck his fingers into Dan’s hair, pulls him down, and connects.


	13. Question

The other man presses his lips tightly together, his mouth becoming little more than a scar across the lower half of his face. The furrow in his brow deepens and his eyes narrow and Dan knows he thinks he's avoiding the question. He's not. "Answer, Daniel.”

A sigh, and Dan leans back against the wall, his smile disappearing. Why does everything simple have to be made complicated? Two words should not inspire this reaction. And it felt so right, with Rorschach pressed against him, his hands fumbling to open his stubborn shirt and his mouth working on Rorschach's neck. Two words, completely honest and uncensored, breathed against hot flesh, and suddenly the body in his arms was stiff and unresponsive. Two words, and suddenly Rorschach was shoving back, away.

"I don't know, man." He says, and he's still being honest. He has no idea what Rorschach wants to hear- would have thought he'd have  _ wanted _ to hear what had already been said.

Rorschach is trip-wire tense, staring into Daniel's eyes with such concentration it feels like an effort at telepathy. Like if he can stare hard enough he'll scour out the truth. "Know I'm ugly, Daniel. Lacking looks, excuse is usually  _ personality _ ." The last word is exhaled with venom, implying that it is not a viable answer either. The tone reveals a level of self-loathing previously undiscovered.

All of this for two little words that Dan doesn't know how to defend. Confessions of love never seemed so stupid; he should have watched his mouth… but the phrase has been on his lips for months, pulling at his heart for even longer. It deserves to be said, and Rorschach deserves to believe it.

He moves without thinking, taking two small steps forward and closing the distance between them. His hand is gentle on the other man’s face, holding him in place when he leans down and kisses him soundly. It’s not gentle or chaste, not  forceful or lusty; it’s the kind of kiss that makes a point, almost a sort of punctuation. “I love you,” he repeats, and maybe the pronoun will help it sink in. “There’s nothing to question.”


	14. Sadistic

The smaller body thrashes against the sheets, face scrunched in frustration and annoyance as Daniel bends over him, insistent.

“Just  _ take it, _ ” he growls, voice as rough and forceful as Rorschach’s usually is. The other man doesn’t say a word, just presses his lips together and twists weakly away. Daniel huffs a sigh and tries to switch tactics, softening his voice and putting his head to the side. “C’mon, buddy, you need this.”

Rorschach shakes his head silently, keeping his mouth shut and arching his back, like he might sink into the mattress and away. It’s a stalemate, neither willing nor able to move, and it goes on and on – until the smaller man is caught by surprise, a cough bursting out of him with enough force that he can’t keep his mouth closed completely.

Dan will feel bad later, but in the moment he seizes the opportunity, forcing the spoon deftly between his partner’s teeth and tipping the liquid down in one smooth motion, so it’s either swallow or choke. The other man sputters and struggles, but in the end more of the violently green liquid goes down than is forced out.

Despite the glare – it lacks the venom to make it much more than sulky – Dan smiles as he sits back.

“Poison,” Rorschach growls, before collapsing into another fit of coughing, heavy and thick with whatever sickness has nested in his chest. And Dan only screws the cap tighter on the bottle, nodding vacantly.

“Yup. I just fought you for half an hour to make you swallow poison.” He paws at his face, smearing cough syrup off his cheek. “Because you’re not sick from wandering the streets in nothing warmer than a soaking wet coat, and I am an evil, evil person who likes watching you suffer, which is why I forced you to take the guest bed in the first place. So I have a prime view.”

Setting the cough syrup on the bed side table, Dan moves from the edge of the bed to the only chair in the room, folding his hands on his lap and meeting Rorschach’s gaze evenly. He tries not to look surprised when the other man looks away, red pooling in his cheeks. “Didn’t say that,” he grumbles, and Dan knows, but it’s like an apology and as close to thanks as he’s going to get for taking care of his sick partner.

Dan doesn’t say anything at all, just picks up his book and flips it open, watching Rorschach settle back into the bed, coughing weakly every once and awhile. He waits until the other man has closed his eyes to say, “You’re taking another dose in an hour.”

The other man stays quiet for a moment, pressing his lips tightly together in frowning disapproval before grunting one last word.

“ _ Sadist. _ ”


End file.
